


176 - Cute Meet at Family BBQ

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 05:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts "Meeting van at a family friends barbeque?" and "Van dating an actress and they are at a movie premiere but Van gets uncomfortable watching his girlfriend's sex scene so they ended up fighting about it but the girl manage to convince him in the end. You know, make it as cute and fluffy as possible."





	176 - Cute Meet at Family BBQ

It was good to be home and around people that didn't want you to sign photoshopped portraits of yourself. There was time to lay around on your friends' couches, smoking and listening to music. There was so much to catch up on. You could visit your family, make them marvel at your fantastic life, find out what they needed so you could spend all your excessive income on them. What else were you going to do with the money? Even the rainy weather felt good. You'd spent too much time in Hollyweird and all you wanted was normality. All you wanted was to feel bored and to talk to average people and eat food made with love. It was good to be home.

Your mum's friend was having a barbeque. Their son was back home. Like you, he was returning from worldwide adventures in stardom. His medium was sound though, where yours was film. You'd met Bondy only a handful of times. Your mum had become friends with his maybe five years ago, so he was already off touring most of the time. On the brief occasions you'd spoken him, you'd felt at ease. It was good to be reminded that weird didn't have to mean bad. He was different to the rest of the world in a way that was charming and fun. It wasn't an unsettling weird like half the people in the film industry. When you followed your mum into the front yard of Bondy's parent's house, he was sitting on the front steps. He stood when you both approached.

"Hey. How are you?" he asked your mum politely and hugged her.

"I'm well, John. Your mum around back?"

He nodded and she gave you a smile before disappearing around the side of the house.

"Hey," you said.

"Hey, Y/N. Want a smoke?" he asked, sitting back down and pulling out a packet. You sat next to him.

"Nah. I'm good, thanks,"

"Gotta keep that movie star smile, huh?"

You groaned. "Please, don't. I'm dreading this as it is. Who's here?"

"You'll be right. Mostly people that you've probably known for a while. Some little kids that might flip out when they see you. Some of my mates are here too," he told you.

You sat for a little while longer and asked him about the band. Being a musician seemed a lot more fun than being in films. If only that was the creative talent you'd had instead. Bondy asked about how you were going and you told him about the film you'd just wrapped up. You failed to mention the sex scene, still not sure how to break that news to anyone. Part of you hoped nobody would go see the film, so they'd not see you semi-naked and purring.

In the backyard, you found your mum and sat with her while she talked to friends. You surveyed everyone at the barbeque. Bondy was right. Most of them you knew and they hardly gave you a second look. You could breathe a sigh of relief. Then, a small girl, maybe six or seven, came up and pulled at your sleeve. You looked down at her.

"Hey, honey,"

"You're in the movies,"

"Yeah, I am. That's my job,"

"Can you come play with me?"

As you sat on the grass and played with Elsie's toy trucks and cars, you realised you could probably play the role of 'good adult that takes one for the team and watches the kid' at the party. Nobody would suspect you were just avoiding adult interaction. It was a good plan, until another adult plonked himself down next to you. He pushed his coloured mirrored glasses onto his head and smiled down at Elsie. She squealed and threw herself into his arms.

"Hey, Els. How's my favourite girl in the world goin'?" he asked her. You recognised him as the singer of Bondy's band.

"Looooook, Van. A movie star," she answered, pointing at you. He gently pushed her hand down.

"I know, but it's rude to point," Van told her, smiling at you. "Hi. I'm Van."

You shook the hand that he held out to you. Elsie went back to her trucks, handing a specially picked one to you and one to him.

"Hi. Y/N,"

"Yep. Most famous person in this town, aren't ya?"

"I don't know. Hear you've got girls following you everywhere these days," you replied. He grinned and shook his head.

"Don't fuckin' know why."

You both followed Elsie's directions in a game that made little sense, but you were used to following stupid instructions in faith. Between that, conversation with Van was easy. He wasn't starstruck and when he asked about your work it sounded casual, like he could be asking about your receptionist or retail job. When Elsie's mum came and collected her to have food, you stood next to Van unsure how you could keep him by your side.

"Gonna duck out the front for a smoke. Coming?"

You followed him to the steps of the house. You sat and watched him walk around the front yard looking for something.

"Have you lost something?" you asked.

"Nah. Just don't want to get ash all over Bond's mum's house. Gotta find an ashtray leaf."

You were about to ask if he literally meant a leaf to use as an ashtray, but he triumphantly held one up. It was large and he could curl it in his hand. Van sat next to you and lit a cigarette. You didn't realise you were staring, but you couldn't remember seeing someone do something so fucking weird but so fucking sweet in a long, long time.

"What?" he asked.

"Sorry! Nothing. Sorry," you replied, looking out onto the street. Out the corner of your eyes you could see him grin.

The sun had set and you'd not moved from the front steps. Your body was cold from sitting on the concrete and you were hungry. But, Van hadn’t stopped talking, and he'd as he spoke his hands waved around wildly and he'd softly hit your arm when he got to the good part in the story. If you were to review him, you'd write all the parts of his stories were good parts. All of his parts were good parts. You could feel your stomach tickle with butterflies. You'd not liked someone in ages.

Eventually your mum came looking for you, telling you to eat something. You followed her back to the party and Van trailed along behind you. You sat with him and ate salad as Van demolished a couple plates of barbequed meat. You reached out and wiped sauce off his face. He grinned.

"Thanks, love."

As the night went on and people got more and more drunk with more and more wine, warming themselves near a grand fire pit Bondy had probably paid for, you stayed by Van's side. Neither of you were doing it on purpose, but you'd naturally gravitate towards each other. You could see people noticing, but nobody seemed surprised or seemed to mind. Maybe they thought it made sense. You and him.

You'd been wearing his jacket for hours and when he walked you and your mum back to your car a little past midnight, you went to take it off. 

"Keep it for now, yeah? I'll get it back when I see you next," 

"And when's that?" you replied, grinning. Your mum rolled her eyes and got in the car. 

"How long you in town for? We could get dinner?" 

"I'm here for a bit. Free tomorrow night," 

"Perfect. I'll call you." 

You nodded and went to move, but felt glued to the spot. Van watched you and you watched him back. 

"I... Thank you for hanging out with me all night," you said, unsure of what else to do or say. 

"No worries. You're good company," he replied. You nodded, back to where you were a few second before. 

"Goodnight," you settled on. 

"Night," he said with a smirk. He moved first, opening his arms for a hug. You had to step into them, but as soon as you did he pulled you close. His arms were tight around you, comforting and safe. Van's hands ran up and down your back. You didn't want to move, but your mum honking the car horn made you jump. Van laughed. "I like her," he said. 

"Yeah. She's alright. I'll see you tomorrow," you replied, stepping away and opening the car door.

He waited until you were driving away before starting to walk to the party again. His black clothes and dark hair camouflaged him in the shadows, and all you could see was the glowing orange tip of his cigarette in the rear view mirror. 

... 

The first date with Van was easy. Everything with him was. It was easy to let him be charming and goofy and beautiful. It was easy to let him pay for dinner, even though you were sure you made more than him. It was easy to have him open doors and walk you to your car again and be nothing like the Hollywood guys you were used to. He was normal and down to earth and happy. 

Each date after that, each text message and phone call and night wrapped up in each other's bed sheets, was bliss. You were both too busy to fight, revelling in the time you got together. He'd fly to see you on set; you'd fly to see him on stage. He became such a deeply embedded part of your life that even the gossip blogs figured out he was your boyfriend. He called laughing, saying his mum read his name next to yours in a trashy magazine while she was getting her hair done.

"We can keep you a secret, if you want? We can be more careful?" you asked, worried that he'd want to stay out of the limelight. 

"Nah, babe. Dead proud you're mine. You're literally the most gorgeous girl on the planet and you're with me. Happy for people to know that, if you are," 

"I am. Of course I am. On that topic... Remember how I'd just finished a film when we met? The premiere for that is soon. Red carpet. The whole thing. I don't know the date, so it might clash with a show, but if not-"

"Yes. I wanna come. Is that what you're asking? Sorry, I interrupted," he said. You laughed, relieved and in love. 

"Yeah. It was. Okay. I'll let you know when it is." 

... 

Van was the most dressed up he'd ever been. He'd put in way more effort for your premiere than he did for any award show or friend's wedding or anything ever. Your stylist had been shocked when he changed in the hotel room. When he arrived he was in ripped jeans and a black shirt that probably hadn't been washed in a while. His hair was a mop, and there was dirt under his nails from the long plane ride. When he emerged from the shower, clean and beautiful, she had watched him change into the suit. 

"Kayla, do you wanna not stare at him?" you laughed. 

"Sorry... He's just... Really fucking scrubs up nice, doesn't he?" 

Van presented himself, and let her fix his collar and shine his necklace. Your hair stylist begged to do his hair, and Van sighed and sat down for him. It was low-key, but you'd not seen him with any product in his hair at all before. Perfectly slicked back, but left to curl, his hair was ten different types of good. He sat on the balcony having a smoke while your team did your final touches. 

You'd never cared about being on trend, so when you found a floor length sparkly space themed Valentino dress, it didn't concern you that it was from the 2015 collection. It was sheer and had long sleeves. They'd sewn in a flesh coloured layer of silk inside because otherwise the world would see you essentially topless. You weren't sure why you cared, considering you were literally topless in the film. You still hadn't really warned Van about that. 

In the car over, opting for a black Chrysler rather than a limo, you held Van's hand. He was quiet and it was making you nervous. 

"You okay?" you asked him. He nodded and smiled. 

"Yep. You? How you feeling? This is big, yeah?" 

"Yeah. I'm okay. Biggest premiere I've been to though. Film has a lot of hype, so people will want to talk to me a bit, I think," you said. He nodded again. "And, um, they might ask you stuff ‘cause you're with me," 

"Me? What would they want to talk to me about?" 

"Uh... They might ask you about how you feel about the sex scene," 

"What sex scene?" he asked, his casual glances around refocussing in an intense look at you. 

"I told you about it," 

"You said you were almost naked,"

"Why would I be almost naked if it wasn't a sex scene?" you asked back. You knew there were a million reasons you could have been naked out of the context of sex. Annoyed that Van hadn't logically come to the conclusion himself though, you didn't know what else to say. 

"Right. So... I'm on my way to sit in a room full of weird snobby people and watch my girlfriend get naked a fuck a stranger?"

"Van, don't... don’t be like that. It's not just some random smut for the sake of it. It makes sense and it's really well done and... I won't do any more scenes like that if you don't want me to," 

"I'm not telling you what to do with your body, Y/N," 

"But... if this upsets you, then I won't do it. I love you. I don't want you to be hurt," you said, twisting in the car seat to look at him. He had stopped looking at you when you started to justify the scene. He was pretending to watch the world go by through the window, but you could tell his focus was on stopping his hands from balling into fists. His fingers were twinkling staccato in angry and hurtful movements, like creepy spiders. 

"I'm not hurt. It's fine. Just would have liked more warning," he said. You nodded. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered. You could feel the pinpricks of tears. Van noticed your eyes glass over. 

"Don't cry. You'll ruin ya makeup. That girl spent all that time gluing them fuckin' eyelashes on," he said. He was trying to lighten the mood, but you still felt bad. "Come here," he instructed. You let him hug you. "I'm not angry or anythin'. If you say it's got a point, then I'll trust you. What do you want me to say if people ask about it?" 

"Whatever you want," 

"I'm not good at answering questions under pressure. You know that. Gimme a script to go off," 

"Uh... Say you haven't seen it yet," you said with a shrug. He nodded. You stayed in his arms, eyes closed and trying to breathe again for the rest of the ride. 

…

You glanced over at Van as he waited next to your assistant, Hermione. She said something to him and he nodded with a grin. The photographers kept yelling your name and you did your best to smile at each of them at least once. One called, "Is that your boyfriend?" You nodded, and Hermione pushed Van over to you.

"Am I meant to smile?" he whispered. You wrapped an arm around his waist, and he draped his over your shoulder casually. It was very not-red carpet photo op appropriate. You loved it. 

"Do you even know how to smile without sticking your tongue out?" 

"No,"

"Just do that weird rockstar vacant stare thing you've got going on then," you laughed. He followed your instructions, and you moved down the line to where reporters were waiting. Van went to stand with Hermione, but you kept a tight grip on his hand.

As expected, he was asked about the sex scene. 

"Mate, I'll support her with whatever she wants to do. Haven't seen it yet, but I'm sure it's fuckin' brilliant," he said. The second time he was asked, he censored himself and tried to speak without slang. "I haven't seen it yet, but I'm sure it is great. I love her to bits, and support her with whatever she wants to do." His answer remained consistent, but the final time the question was posed it was served with a side of casual sexism. 

"And you're the boyfriend? You're standing in the place the entire male population wants to be in, man. Must be pretty secure to let her do a scene like that. How's it feel?" 

Van paused for a moment, then glanced at you. You nodded. 

"Well, I don't let her do anythin'. She does what she wants, 'cause she's... you know... a person. So don't know what you mean by that, mate. But, yeah, I'm secure 'bout us. You're right, heaps of people would wanna be by her side, but they ain't. It's me. So, I'm feeling pretty fuckin' good. How's your relationship going though? Let her leave the house lately?" 

Van's accent was heavy, and he'd let himself swear once for effect. You laughed, then put your hand on the reporter’s arm. His mouth was open in shock. 

"Thanks, honey. Enjoy the film," you said to him, and walked off with Van. Hermione trailed behind, writing down which magazine the reporter worked for. "Van, that was..." 

"I'm sorry! Am I gonna get ya in trouble? I can go back and-"

"No, babe. It was perfect. You're perfect. Are you sure you're really okay though? We can sneak out the back and not actually watch the film?" 

"I wanna see what all the fuss is about now, yeah?" 

…

Someone had made a critical error in the seating arrangements. Van was between you and the lead actor Tom. Tom, who you pretended to sleep with for the sake of art. You introduced them and Van sized him up. They were complete opposites. Tom was muscle and natural tan and pearly whites. Van was the frontman for a British guitar rock band. But if Van was threatened, which he had no reason to be, it didn't show. 

The film was a drama and there was already Oscar buzz. The kind of independently funded project that picked up Hollywood names along the way. All moody music and blurry light. As you watched yourself on screen, you couldn't help but to critique your performance and find flaws in your appearance. A mental note: No more watching your own films. You glanced over at Van, who was watching the screen with eyes wide and lips parted. He was in total awe of you and when you tangled your fingers through his he looked over and beamed. 

"You're so fucking good," he whispered. "Dead keep forgetting it's you."

Towards the end of the film, when the emotion your character was holding in was building and building and she couldn't take it anymore, she solved her problems with messy, brutal sex. You really didn't want to see your body twist and contort like that, so you glanced around the room. People were engaged, enthralled, enraptured. Pupils were expanded. Bodies were squirming in their seats. Your eyes settled on Van. He was smirking. You shook his hand in yours, asking silently for feedback. His head moved a little, but he couldn't look away. His cheeks were flushing red. Tom leaned into Van and whispered something, and Van nodded with a grin. When the scene was over, Van looked at you. 

"Fuuuuuuuck," he whispered. "Oh man. How did I get this lucky?" 

"You know that's fake. That's not how I-"

"Oh, I know how you... yeah. But nobody else does. Just me," he said with a smile. 

After the premiere, there was a party that you had planned on skipping. When you got out into the lobby and Van wrapped his arms around you, you knew he'd want to go out. Let you be the star of the night. Spend as much time as possible talking to people about you. 

"You liked it?" you asked. 

"Babe," he said with a grin. He leaned down and kissed you. "You are... that was class. You're amazin', really." 

Hermione appeared. "Alright, so, the calls are coming in already. You thought your life was crazy before, Y/N. Are you going to the after party? Car is waiting for you. Just tell the driver where you want to go. I'll call you tomorrow and we can organise your schedule for the next few months, okay?" 

"Yeah, thank you!" 

"Ya welcome. You did good," she said and waved goodbye as she went out to face press. 

You turned back to Van, he was still watching you more in love than he had ever been before. He'd finally seen your craft in its final form, and his mind was blown. 

"What did Tom say to you?" 

Van smirked. "Nothing for you to worry about, darlin'," 

"Riiiiiight," you said in suspicion. You looked around the room. Most people were heading to the party. "What do you want to do? Party or hotel?" He shrugged.

"You want to party, right?"

Of course he did. Van loved people. Van loved you. Van loved free food. He nodded his head. 

... 

You were the girl of the hour, and not long into the party you lost Van somewhere. Last you saw, he was having a smoke with Tom out on one of the huge balconies with the marble floors. Van had the amazing ability to get along with almost anyone, and certainly any type of person. He wasn't snobby, or pretentious, and he was always up for a conversation; especially if the conversation was about you. Almost all of the discussions at the party that night would be about you at some point. 

It was almost four in the morning when Van's arms wrapped around you. 

"Your skin is freezing," he said. "Here," and he gave you his jacket. You were drunk and in love. Van was sober, and you'd not realised he'd made the decision to stay alert and look after you. You cuddled up into him. 

"Hungry," you told him. 

"Should we raid the kitchen? I saw one of them before. There's, like, ten kitchens," 

"Do they got Nutella?" 

"Probably too fancy for that, but we'll see." 

The pantry in the kitchen was huge. It was bigger than the bedroom you had growing up. Van reported with sorrow that there was no Nutella. In the fridge he found a half eaten cheesecake, and plated you up a good chunk of it. He lifted you by your waist onto the granite countertop and stood between your legs and watched you eat. 

"What?" you asked with a mouthful of cake. 

"I love you, so, so much, Y/N," 

"I love you too!" you said cheerily, more cake in your mouth. "Gonna have to do like, ten stupid PT sessions to make up for this."

Van laughed and opened his mouth for you to feed him some. When the cake was gone, Van gave you a piggyback ride to the huge front steps of the house. He called the number for the driver, who appeared quickly. In the back seat of the car, you thought about the night you'd met Van. About Elsie and the crackling fire and Van's smoke breaks. 

"You okay?" he asked when you slumped against him. You smiled wide and nodded, eyes closed. 

"Just thinking," 

"Just thinking," Van repeated, nodding his head. You were asleep before the hotel came into sight.


End file.
